


Whiskey. Neat.

by t_dreams



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Assistant Reader, Drinking, F/M, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, No Smut, Pepper Potts takes no shit, Sorry lovelies, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, mentions of depression, so do you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 23:11:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15650865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t_dreams/pseuds/t_dreams
Summary: What happens when you get fired from your job and you get hired as Tony Stark’s assistant?





	Whiskey. Neat.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this like a year ago but neglected to do anything with it. Just felt like putting it up :) 
> 
> I have a Bucky/Reader Going on too. So if you’d like to check that out that’d be awesome. I’m at around 40k words so its a long one and I’m not close to finishing!
> 
> Remember to drop a kudos and maybe a comment! I really appreciate those:)))
> 
> -T

_What an asshole_ , you thought. You’d just gotten fired by your asshole of a boss because “you weren’t reaching the company’s expectations”. You were probably the most valuable employee in the small company, your degree in biomechanics and your previous job as a personal assistant for Pepper Potts when she first got started gave you enough experience to get a job anywhere.

You huffed angrily as you shoved the key into the keyhole of your apartment in Soho. The first thing you did was shrug off your heels and pour yourself a big glass of Sancerre.

You sat on the couch watching some Netflix, letting the stress built up throughout the day melt away.

That’s when your phone rang.

Little did you know, that phone call would change your life.

\-----

Pepper Potts was a woman to be reckoned with. She could pile you in lawsuits until your office is filled with enough legal papers to bury you in work for the next few years, but she could also buy you your favourite flowers and mother hen you.  
  
She was qualified in so many fields, being the CEO of Stark Industries was the least of her problems. Being the CEO of such a prestigious company was a privilege and an honour. She strives under the stress and performs under the pressure. She would say that the hardest part of being the CEO is the rumours, the misconceptions and… the lies that the company carries because of her previous boss and, now, former CEO of the infamous Stark Industries. Tony Stark.

As an assistant for the troubled engineer, Pepper has seen the many facets that comes with her boss or previous lover.

She’s encountered the playboy, the engineer, the philanthropist, but those are labels he’s given himself. Things he’s told the press.

Pepper, through her many years beside Tony, has met the side of him that the public doesn’t see, aside from Rhodes, obviously J.A.R.V.I.S. and maybe Banner. She’s seen the sweet, caring and fiercely protective side of Stark, the side of him that despises his father and hides his scars. She’s lived through the panic attacks and the PTSD. She was the one who kept his drinking problem under wraps and worst of all, she’s witnessed the tail end of his insecurities. That said, Mrs.Potts being CEO was a blessing and a curse. A blessing because she’s never had an opportunity such as this, but a curse, because she couldn’t watch over Tony as much as she used to and she could tell that her best friend was spiralling into oblivion.

That’s when she decided to contact (Y/N) (Y/L).

She hired (y/n) as her personal assistant before Stark, when she was first getting started. One day, she put out an article online and in the newspaper and by the same time the next day, Pepper Potts had one of the best assistants in town.

You were trained and you were good at what you did. Never late and sometimes worked extra hours without asking. You know how to operate schedules and spent enough time with Pepper as friends to know how your boss would want things done.

After working together for a few years, Pepper went to work for Tony, but you stayed present for awhile. At some point, you decided to leave and explore for something new. In the time that Mrs. Potts worked for Tony, and you worked for Pepper,you’d never talked to Stark, nor did you have a need to.

That’s when you got a phone call from an old friend. You put down the glass of wine and picked up the phone.

“Hey, Pep it’s been awhile, how’s it going?” You asked, happy to hear her voice.

“Not bad, not bad, I’m so busy! How about you?”

“Honestly, not too good, I just got fired because I, apparently, wasn’t reaching the company’s expectations.”

“God, that’s terrible, what a load of bullshit!” You laughed heartily. “Anyways, in a way that’s great for me.” You frown. “Because I have a job offer for you.”

“What! Are you serious?”

“Yep. But, it’s probably going to be the hardest job you’ll ever have.”

“Come on, Pepper…”

“Ok, I need you to be Tony Stark’s personal assistant.”

But wasn’t Pepper… Oh, you forgot. Pepper wasn’t his personal assistant anymore, she was the CEO.

“Um. Well, I guess I can.”

“No, (y/n), you need to understand. Tony’s a real handful, he’s sweet, but I’m telling you, it’s not going to be easy.”

“Now that I’ve taken the job, maybe you should tell me a little bit about him.”

She wanted you to start as soon as possible, so she started to go through what was basically your job description. She explained to you that he spends a lot of time in his lab and other than organising his meetings, you’re essentially going to be a full-time babysitter. She talked to you very briefly about what happened in Afghanistan and the bomb incident with the Chitauri. She went over how that damaged him, how he suffers from anxiety and PTSD. She urged you not to tell him that you knew of this information or else he will immediately close off and probably fire you.

She told you to always keep an eye on what he was eating, because sometimes, when he gets too engulfed in his work, he won’t eat or sleep. She said that there's an A.I called J.A.R.V.I.S, and you could ask him anything. The Stark Tower is ready to accommodate any needs you have during your stay there and that your hours will be from 9 AM to 5PM, which is standard, but she warned you that you might be staying a little longer than that.

After a long 3 hour phone called, you finally hung up still feeling unprepared for your new job. Tony Stark had a reputation, that, in itself, made you nervous.

You decided to start Monday, next week. At least your old boss had the decency of firing you on a Friday.

You sighed laying back down on your couch, hoping that the weekend of preparation ahead of you would go smoothly.

\----

Monday morning, you woke up bright and early, prepping yourself for your new job. You got dressed and made yourself breakfast. You arrived at the Tower with twenty minutes to spare, all your documents and schedules under your arm.

You pass all the security and finally make it to the elevator that was slowly ascending. The ding echoes in the empty elevator, stopping at floor 65.

You hold your breath, but let out a sigh of relief when you see Pepper standing there, greeting you with a small smile.

“Oh, Thank God, you’re here. I wasn’t sure what to do with myself.” You look around, there’s a long rectangular desk with a desktop, file organisers, pens and other stationeries all set up in front of a large Stark Industries panel to the right of two glass double doors you could only assume led to a couple of conference rooms.

“Yes, ok, so I have a press conference downstairs in about forty-five minutes and I need you to prep Tony for me. He should know the gist of it, but just hand him these cards and make sure he dresses himself, he should be in the living room which is down the staircase, to the right, thank you…,” she rapidly spitfires orders and gets interrupted by her phone ringing.” OK, I really have to go. Good luck!”

Before you could add anything, she’s already taken off. You take one big breathe and head down the beige granite staircase and into to Mr.Stark’s living room. As predicted, the genius was seated on a couch, tapping away on his tablet, not noticing your entrance.

You stand in the middle of the room, a bit dubious, and clear your throat. You shyly tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as your new boss finally notices you.

“And who might you be?” For a second, you are paralyzed by the intense gaze of deep, mahogany eyes boring into you. Quickly you regain composure and introduce yourself.

“Hi, I’m (Y/n) (L/n), your new personal assistant, I’ll be working by your side from now on Mr. Stark.”

“And what about Pepper?” He asks, getting up and walking to the bar.

“She is actually the one who hired me, I was her assistant for a couple years, a while ago.”

“Ah, so you must be the infamous (Y/n).” You flush a little bit.

“Um, Mr. Stark, you have a press conference,” you check your watch.” In about half an hour. Mrs. Potts wanted me to hand you these cards and we need you in a suit in the next ten minutes.” You hand him the cards and put your things down on the counter as he watches you carefully, taking a mouthful of scotch thoughtfully.

“I like you. You’re bossy. Like, Pepper.” He says, quickly. You’re not sure what to make of that, does that mean he’ll keep you? Or does it mean that he’s rather have Pepper back? Anyways, you don’t have time to dwell on these things because you need to be doing your job.

“Look, do you need help getting dressed? Or do I need to come in and help you because unless I want to get fired, you need to look immaculate two minutes ago.” You tell him, matter of factly. Pepper told you that he was a man who liked to mess around, but if push came to shove, he’d always be there.

He raises an eyebrow at you, studying from far. “Ok, then.” He retreats to what you can only think is a giant california closet.

“I’ll be waiting for you at the front desk.”

You sit down and exhale forcefully, that was an eventful first hour of a job. You login to your computer and check his schedule for the rest of the week. There’s a benefit planned for tomorrow and back to back meetings for the following few days. Luckily, the rest seemed pretty empty, other than little appointments.

You pick up once again your tablet and purse, readying yourself for the whirlwind that is Tony Stark.

The sound of expensive crystal-embellished Louboutin sneakers against grey tiled floors brings you out of your work-frenzied trance.

“Ready, Mr.Stark?” You ask walking towards the exit, your heels clicking along the way.

“Damn, press conference,” he mutters under his breath, he probably wasn’t supposed to even say it out loud,” Um, yes. Sorry”

You stifle a chuckle, adjusting your glasses to try and hide your amusement.

The moment the elevator dings, you both are swamped by flashing lights and people’s shouting over the chaos. Mr. Stark, over here! Mr. Stark, what do you have to say….

By the time you actually get him backstage, you’re out of breathe and a little overwhelmed. It was never like this with Pepper.

Out of the crowd, you take a moment to admire Mr. Stark. Even through all that chaos, there wasn’t a single hair out place in his neatly coiffed mane, his designer sunglasses were straight and his suit didn’t have a wrinkle in sight.

You had yet to learn that that is what Tony Stark is, a man, imperfectly perfect amidst the cacophony he had made for himself.

Who knew you’d fall for it.  
\---

“So, why are you leaving?”

“Because everything I want is there, inches from my face, but I can’t have it. I can’t have him.”

\---

You learned a lot with your time at Stark Industries. You learned everything to learn about stocks in a night because, as it turns out, Tony didn’t feel like handling these things, so now you had to do it.

You learned that he likes three shots of espresso if he works late at night in the lab, but he likes a big old classic latte if he had a decent night’s sleep, which didn’t happen often.

You learned what his favourite whiskey was and that he gifted a Dom Perignon in the birth year of his lower-class guests.

You learned that he prefers grey suits and ties, but has a deep appreciation for bow ties.

You have his facial features ingrained into your mind. You know when he’s upset or cranky or needs food. You know when he’s hungry or hasn't slept for three days. You know his ticks and pet peeves and the fact that he likes coco puffs and waffles.

Your mind and body was in tune with his. You kept up with his lightning intellect. You enjoyed watching him tackle a problem even if there was no paradox on this Earth he couldn’t solve. He was a man who wasn’t fazed and you were enamoured.

During your time there, you watched too. You watched him through parties and banquets and dinners. You’ve seen him laugh till’ he was clutching his stomach. You watched him drink into despair and wallow in depression. You watched him struggle and cry on to your shoulder. You watched him mull memories around in his head and you watched him replay regrets right before his eyes.

But, you also watched him walk into his bedroom with countless leggy women. You heard them have fun, the clinking of glasses, the giggles of drunkenness. You’ve watched him trip over his clothes in the after-glow, you’ve seen him walk the walk of shame with an air of nonchalance.

And the part that hurt, the part that made you leave, is watching his eyes that were alight, dim down at the sight of you,and then his voice, asking you to escort them out. Again. And again. And again.

And one day. You just had enough.

\---

“Goddamit, (Y/n), where are you?” He said over the phone.

“Tony, I’m handling all the meetings you dumped on me last minute, I can’t be by your side and do this at the same time.”

“You know what, it doesn’t matter. I’ll just call Pepper.” He hangs up. Staring at your phone, gaping. Did he just? Tears start forming at the edge of your eyes, but you push them back. This was the last straw. Tonight. You were going to leave.

\---  
“Pepper, I don’t have time for this…” The genius says.

“Yes, you do. Look at me!” He faces her, surprised. “That poor heart is being torn apart because you’re being an inconsiderate asshole.”

“No, I’m not, she’s doing her job. Which is what I pay her for, by the way.”

“So you’re telling me that sending her after the girls in your room is out of the goodness of your heart? You love her. Why are you doing this?”

He slouches against his desk, suddenly looking, feeling, so tired.

“Because I’m poison and she’s pure and all I’ll do is ruin her.” His voice so quiet, Pepper barely heard it. “She’s too good. She can’t- she can’t love me.”

His former lover is stunned into silence.

“Shouldn’t that be something she decides for herself? She’s a grown woman, Tony.”

She leaves without saying another word, Tony, stays silent.  
\---

Of course, he’d fallen for her.

She was… everything. Everything she did had him entranced. From the way she walked, to the way she talked to the way her face would scrunch up when she’s busy or to the way she bit her lip whenever she focused on a task.

But, these, aspects, those things were the physicality of it. This damned woman kept him together. Kept him from falling apart. From the moment she walked in asking him if he needed help getting changed, to the moment where he realised that the reason his heart was beating so fast all the time wasn’t because of the alcohol, or his pain, it was because of her.

He couldn’t help it. She was beautiful and pure and so, so good it made him look like a bloodstain on a white sheet.

He had spent so much time with you, every minute in your company helped heal his wounds he’d accumulated over the years. You were this godsend gift that he somehow ended up with. He didn’t, no he couldn’t and wouldn’t understand how you tolerated him, of all people. How you seem to actually enjoy his company and how you’d learned how to speak Tony so quickly. Barely anyone has been able to understand him on such a level.

He couldn’t hurt that. He couldn’t do that, to her of all people.

So he thought, maybe, maybe if he drove her away, she’d be safe.

Safe from him.

  
\---

  
As your tired feet make way to his floor, you shift your purse from one shoulder to the other. You huff quietly as you hear Tony, pouring another drink.

“Tony, we have to talk.”

“Oh, it sounds like someone’s in trouble. Wait a second, I shouldn't be saying that if that someone is me.”

Not laughing at his joke,you sat down in front of him. You try and collect yourself, you’d practice what you were going to say in your mind hundreds of times.

_Tony, I’m sorry this is too much._

_Tony, I love you._

_Tony, how am I supposed to stand here, so incredibly close to what I can’t have._

_Tony, I have to go, you won’t have me but you mean the world to me._

_Tony, Tony, Tony, Tony…_

Instead what comes out is,

“I’m leaving” You blurt out, you look at him through teary eyes. Your breath is shaky and your hands are gripping the edge of the counter. You stare at him, gauging his reaction. But, you don’t expect seeing what you saw. Him angry? Yes, definitely. Him, offended, sad, upset, outraged, a myriad of other emotion on the spectrum of ALL emotions, but him relieved? Never.

“Good.”

“What, did you just say?” You raise eyebrows, anger pounding your skull.

“I said good.” He stated simply. That stung. That stung so fucking much. The anger is slowly replaced with hurt. The tears cascade your cheeks as you bow your head.

“Wow. That’s, that’s rich.” You get up, wiping your tears. Laughing to yourself, what’d you think would happen? You thought he’d care? Your laugh echoes through the room, but it’s empty. It lacks joy and it’s cold and ironic.

“Have a great fucking life.”

You stalk off into the elevator, not looking back

——  
He stares at where you were sat in front of him. And god it hurts. It hurts so fucking much. So he does the one thing he knows how to do best.

Drink.

————————————————————————————————

 

Whiskey.

His drink of choice.

It’s aged in oak, for years and years. The first thing you taste is one of distilled alcohol, all whiskies have a distinct flavour profile, a character. There are different tastes you can find, there’s coffee, caramel and even mint. But he didn’t give a shit about that. He just needed a drink.

Something to drown out the pain.

Not even that. Something to drown out the silence, the emptiness. Or maybe something to fill the cave that had dug itself in his heart, slowly expanding, to his lungs, to his stomach, his throat, his brain.

It’s not like he isn’t familiar with the feeling. That- emptiness. It’s so bone achingly familiar, but he knows it shouldn't be something re-lived. It's a sign, something has gone wrong. It’s a feeling he gets whenever he sits alone at the bar, a drink in his hand, watching the brown liquid swirling in his glass.

At least the alcohol drowns out the pain. Temporarily.

His head spins as he tries to walk back to his room. And suddenly he notices it. The scarf. It’s laying innocently on the back of a chair at the far end of the room. He stumbles over to it and grips it tight in his calloused hands. It’s a deep burgundy made of soft expensive silk, it was hand made. Handmade for you. It was your birthday gift.

He’d thought about it long and hard. He remembered asking Pepper for her opinions on what to get and how to give it.

He ended up buying it because he saw you in a specific designer trench coat that you looked beautiful in. The scarf’s rich tones matched perfectly with your favourite over coat and he couldn't wait to give it to you, to see you where it.

Little did he know you wouldn't have a chance to even see it.

He clutches the fabric with white knuckles as he imagines you walking around his home the way you did. Your figure made it impossible to concentrate and your voice did things to his head.

The deft movement of your fingers made him imagine sinful things and he constantly thought about what it would feel like to run his fingers through your silky hair.

But, you were gone. Even if he believed it was for the better. Pepper was consistently on his back, telling him how he’s never been this bad, how the level of alcohol he’s consuming has never gone so high, how he hasn’t slept, not really.

He’s miserable because she isn’t here. He doesn’t know how he’ll do it. Stay away. It’ll take time he tells himself. Yet, he doesn’t even believe himself.

He inhales and drops the scrunched up fabric to the floor, he walks back to bed.

He doesn’t even bring the whiskey.

\-----------------------------------------------

A raging headache pounds at your head as you peel your sticky eyes open. You lay there on your head after another night of drinking and drowning out your sorrows. Your best friend had insisted on taking you out last night to forget about the motherfucker.

But, you couldn’t. As cheesy as it sounds you couldn’t keep him out of your head. You didn’t understand his… rejection. You could've sworn that he’d enjoy your company a little. He was always by your side entertaining you, you spent countless nights talking about nothing and everything. He had carved himself a place in your heart.

You tiredly remove yourself from the warmth of your bed to get yourself a glass of cold water.

The cool liquid sliding down your throat, soothing the rawness it possessed for the past few weeks from you crying over… over him.

You’d tried hard to get yourself back together. The first weekend away was the hardest. It felt so lonely, so quiet. Afterwards, your friends didn’t let you mope around your apartment. Trying desperately to keep yourself busy.

You scoured the internet for a new job, but none of them seemed appealing.

You ignored the multiple calls from Pepper knowing that she’d want you to come back. You weren’t ready now, maybe in a few weeks.

\---------------

“Pepper I need a new personal assistant.”

She rolled her eyes at his nonsense, the only reason why he didn’t have an assistant/best friend/ lover was because he pushed her away. He had his reasons, but Pepper thought it wasn’t worth splitting a poor girl’s heart in half. She knew he didn’t have a say in his decision or his choices, yet being with him for so many years had made her attuned to his need. It was as plain as day he needed (y/n).

“You are very much capable of finding one yourself Tony. Anyways, aren’t you trying to start the whole Avengers group thing?”

“Ya, I have a meeting with Nick Fury and then we’ll see about the rest.”

\--------------

You listened on the radio as the Avengers were called upon again to eliminate some threat that was roaming the Brooklyn Bridge. You were a fair distance away, but you couldn't help but be aware about the fact that Tony was on the team of heroes. Even in his suit he wasn’t invincible and you knew that all too well. From where you were sitting in the car, you could see the Bridge swaying a bit from left to right.

You listened to the reporters explaining shaky live announcements followed by a description of the Hulk’s path across the Bridge flinging assailants left and right. The red and gold Iron Man suit whizzing from side to side clearing out civilians and taking out violent robot killing machines.

That’s before one of them lands on your car, crushing the front, shattering the glass, shards sprinkling the interior. You shout a pained scream as you feel cuts opening on your arms. The thing stands up and looks at you with a calculating eye.

All you could do is hold your breath, praying to god that you wouldn't spend your last seconds in this godforsaken car. Suddenly, a second one jumps onto the roof, you could hear the groaning of the bending metal before a loud crack announces the collapse of the only thing protecting you from alien robots.

The rest of the story is quite simple, you’re not sure when or how, but one second you’re praying, and the other, you’re not.

\----------

“Civilian casualties?” Tony asks.

“Only one so far and I’m trying to get her out of the wreck. Her car is crushed and we’re going to need immediate medevac.” Steve announces, the sounds of effort being heard through the mic.

“I’m coming over.” Iron Man announces. He’d already cleared off all the streets surrounding the incident and he’d helped kill most of those unidentified robots, the fight had finally died down.

Sir, I do not think it is wise for you to intervene in Captain Rogers rescue.

“What? Why not?” The suit flies from one end of the bridge to the other in a flurry of smoke, steam and glinting red and gold.

“Because, sir, it is (y/n) (L/n) that is injured.”

For a second he could feel his heart falter, maybe the arc reactor’s light even fluttered because of the depth of emotion that just hit the cavity he has for a chest. The air exits his lungs and suddenly he can only hear white noise as he approaches the wreck.

Do you know when some people say that a moment can last forever. How, if something is so important to you, that an instant can last hours ,and hours can last days and days can last weeks, years, even. Well, from the moment J.A.R.V.I.S announced the news, to the moment that Tony was able to regain his composure and let his brain signal synapses and neurons to tell his lungs to breathe again, it felt like years. And not in the good way.

“Give me her stats. NOW!” He shouts, losing control of the suit’s flight for a few seconds. All he could think about was the last time he saw you. Tears staining your cheeks, hair a bit unruly but gorgeous nonetheless. It hurt so bad to see your heart break, physically, in front of him. It shredded every fibre of his being, but he did it for a good reason. He’s not so sure anymore.

“Her pulse is slowly weakening, she has a mild concussion, two cracked ribs, a suspected punctured lung, a hairline fracture and more than enough scrapes and bruises.”

OH, God. He flies even faster to the wrecked car. A man on a mission. From far, he could see Cap, manually shredding his way through the scraps of metal, prying the door off his hinges and ripping the seatbelt of the wall.

“Stark, where’s the med evac?” He groans, frustrated, they should've been here by now and by the look of distress on Tony’s face meant they weren't on their way here either.

“Let me see, Cap. She’s- She’s my…” He stutters out as he sees your limp body, asleep or comatose in the super soldier’s arms. He didn’t even recognize his own voice. It was wrecked, raspy, breathless and filled with snot and tears. He dutifully avoided the Captain’s questioning gaze, but he seemed intuitive enough to hand over your limp form off into his Iron clad arms.

The gold face plate lifted up as he did another once-over of your body to make sure he wouldn't be shifting anything mid-flight.

“I’m going straight back to base to the med wing.” He says with finality.

With you snuggled safely and tightly to his chest, he bends his knees and flies away to where you’ll be treated and hopefully, where he’d be able to see those eyes open and bright again.

\----------

Hearing and smell are the first senses you gain once waking up. You could hear the heart monitor beeping steadily like a metronome to a waltz and you could smell the clinical disinfectant that comes with every hospital.

You could taste the staleness of your dry mouth and you could see the bright fluorescent lights on the ceiling through your eyelids.

Then came touch. And that was odd. You felt the coarse fabric of hospital blankets over your bare legs and you felt the cool touch of the robe you were placed in. You felt tubes running up your arms and some tape attached to your chest.

You felt a warmth on your right side too. A head of hair tickling your forearm and an arm carefully wrapped around your waist. Who could that be?

It was comforting, but who would show up. You were so tired that opening up your eyes seemed like the hardest of tasks and your body just felt so, so heavy. So, you let yourself drift off again.

\-------

Since the last time he saw you, you seemed more tired. And you’d lost a bit of weight. There were bags under your eyes that were more prominent and your cheekbones and collar bones stuck out more. You looked a little gaunt, and that worried him. Even if he had no right to fuss over you.

You’d left (because of him). And this, this absurd, crazy situation was also because of him. And for the past few hours that he’s been staring at your beautiful face, he was battling between keeping you by his side forever, protecting you and making sure you never see his face again.

Well, it’s too late for that, he thinks, because you’re starting to wake.

He felt your fingers twitch in his hand, and he sees your lashes flutter a little, then they open.  
\------

When you open your eyes again, that same presence, the same heat, is still there. You look to side and meet the one pair of eyes you’d thought you'd never see again. And you were so relieved to see him there, the rising panic from waking up subsiding completely because of his presence, but he’d hurt you, bad.

“Tony, what are you doing here?” You ask coldly. Mustering as much strength into your voice as you could.

All and any responses seemed to die on his tongue. He just stared dumbly at you. You waited for an answer, but none came.

“Tony? Tony? I asked why you’re here.” You repeat, that seemed to knock him out of his daze.

“I- um, I, you were, I was there… I’m sorry.” It all came in a jumbled heap that you couldn't really understand, but you caught the last two words.

“You’re sorry? You told me to leave and you were happy about it.” You could feel yourself regaining a little bit of strength for the tirade that was about to come.

“No. - I wasn’t - I wasn’t happy about it.” He stutters out, and for the first time, you saw Tony nervous.

“You told me ‘good’, after I told you I was resigning. You know what I was planning to do? I was going to stick around. I quit because I thought maybe, maybe, there was a slim chance that I could be with you and I wanted our professional life out of the way.” You’re left with your chest heaving and fall into a coughing fit.

Immediately, he stands up and pats your back. “Easy, easy there. Breathe.”

“Don’t tell me what to fucking do.” You knew you were being stubborn, but you couldn’t help it.

“Ok, I deserve that.”

“Yes, you do.” Once you’ve calmed down a bit, you looked to him and saw just how tired he was. He had a few cuts and bruises on his face with dark circles under his eyes. His shoulders were slumped forwards and he was rubbing his hand tiredly over his face. Suddenly, all that pent up anger just drained out of you. You were tired and you were hurting and despite your better judgment, all you wanted to do was hug him.

“I did that because I’m no good for you. I’m screwed up in more ways than you can imagine. And the only thing I’ve done with every relationship was hurt the person I’m with. And- I can’t do that. Not with you. Never with you. And look at what happened. You got hurt. You got hit and I wasn’t there to protect you. If I can’t do it now, how can I do it in the future? “

There’s a brief pause and he dares to look at you in the eyes and instead of seeing sadness, he sees anger, deep, hot, searing anger.

“That’s a load of bullshit Tony. You couldn’t have prevented what happened yesterday from happening even if you wanted to. I was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s just bad luck. What are you going to do about it? Don’t you get it Tony? Of all the seven billion people on the planet, I had to fall in love with you,” his eyes widen at the confession but you keep going, your voice softening,” you aren’t going to hurt me, but you have that power. You hold my heart in your hands, and you know what else? I trust you with it. So, here’s what’s going to happen,” you gently take a hold of his hand,” I’m going to scoot over on this small hospital bed, and you’re going to slip in next to me, even if the nurses chastise me, and you are going to cuddle and be my favourite pillow.”

With big smiles on your faces, you gently shift to the side as he slides in right next to you. You lay and your side, one arm wrapped around his waist and the other holding his hand, your head resting on his shoulder. For a while, you stay there in silence, tracing the ring of his arc reactor.

“You know, you’re really bossy.” He says, with an adorably boyish smile.

“You love it.” You say, knowingly.

“God help me I do.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys liked that ! Leave a comment or a kudos!
> 
> -T


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